Human Currency
by Chriscross23
Summary: The slave buisness is more deadly than you think....


Chapter 1: A rude awakening

I opened my eyes to my familiar surroundings, a grimy apartment in a part of town so forsaken I'm beginning to think God wants nothing to do with us. I groaned and reluctantly got to my feet and began the morning march to the fridge. As I opened the door the light hit me in the face, I stepped back to regain my vision but as I did I noticed something…..unusual, an open window. I never left a window open over night, a man in my line of work gathers too many enemies. Realisation hit me just in time, I leapt back just in time to see a knife fly past my neck and land with a "Thud" in my fridge door. I barely had enough time to regain balance when a large black figure dived at me and pinned me against a cabinet. I reacted quickly. Bringing my knee sharply up and connecting with a part of him that should never be kicked! He howled with pain and fell backwards, seizing my opportunity I bolted across the room to my drawer, to my gun. I reached out for the handle but a cold metal silencer pressed to my head froze my hand.

"You loose………again" The man lowered the gun from my head.

"Hello again 47, you know I wouldn't think any less of you if you just used the doorbell like everybody else."

The bald headed agent walked over to a kitchen table where a half dismantled L96 sniper rifle laid Idle. 47 picked up the weapon and aimed down the scope at nothing.

"I'm just trying to keep you on your toes 62"

I walked over to the mirror and combed my thick brown hair into something I thought was stylish. I rubbed the sleep from my dark green eyes and turned to face him.

"Well I wish you wouldn't, the last time you tried to keep me on my toes I was in hospital for 3 days"

He chuckled and laid the rifle back on the table and sat down.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure your company 47?"

"The agency is organising a series of hits, one for the record books. I need four agents to come with me and I want you to be one of them."

"Sounds interesting. You said a series of hits…how many? And what's the payment?"

"We're going after the leaders of some white supremacist cult called the Brothers of the Crucifix. They believe that they are all direct descendants of the twelve disciples and therefore have twelve leaders which we are going to kill. We get $500,000 per hit which will be split among the survivors so the minimum you will be coming out with is $1.2 million. What do you think?"

I had been with agency a long time and I knew that for them to risk the lives of five agents meant they were serious. But still, 47 looked worried….even scared, defiantly not his usual self.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me something important"

47 shifted uncomfortably "One of the twelve leaders is Harold Vickers"

"Harold Vickers the billionaire?"

"Yup, that unfortunately means that the enemies manpower and weapons will be limitless, you in?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

"Excellent, I'm going to get agents 16, 89 and 66. Now get your things, we leave when you're ready."

I left the table and started putting clothes into a backpack. To this day I don't know why I accepted the mission. $1.2 million almost wasn't worth the risk but I did need the money and 47 was my friend, my mentor and if he thought I was ready then I would follow him where ever he went. I went over to my drawer and took out my gun box. 47 had his Silver Ballers I had my 90 Two. I loved that Gun, it had saved me in several awkward situations. It was sleek and black and I never went anywhere without. I put it my bag along with the silencer and flashlight attachment. I pulled on a worn t-shirt and a pair of jeans then I wrapped a blue hoody loosely around my waist and turned to face 47.

"Is that what you're wearing?" 47 stared blankly at me.

"Ye I go for comfort"

"Remind me to buy you a suit"

I laughed, collected my things and we made our way outside. We were in the hallway, a long dark corridor lit occasionally by dim wall lights. At one end of the corridor was a dark staircase which lead down to the lobby, at the other was a fire escape that was illuminated by the ominous green glow of the sign. That day we were saved by pure luck. I was about to slide the key into the lock when a one of my neighbours came outside and looked straight at them. They wasted no time, the lead man opened fire and nailed her to the wall. As soon as the first bullet left the chamber an explosion at the fire escape sent splinters hurtling past us. We drew our weapons and ducked inside my apartment just before the first barrage of bullets struck where we were standing.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE THEY?" I screamed

47 leaned out of the doorway, and then retracted just in time. The doorway erupted with gunfire.

"Well, we're not going out that way"

"WHAT DO WE DO?"

"Calm down 62! Can you hold them here for a few minutes?"

"Sorry, yes I can hold them"

He rose to his feet and ran to my window, but I didn't have time to watch him, bullets were still flying. I rolled out of the doorway and shot franticly at the group of men climbing the fire escape. Three fell, rolling in their own blood howling with agony. I pulled myself back into the apartment. They weren't the army, or police. They were inexperienced, cocky, they didn't take cover. They just ran down the corridor to dying fall. But where was 47? I found a mirror and eased it out …..nothing, Wait! As quick a flash a door opened from a different apartment and a Silver baller enclose in a black gloved fist pressed itself against an attacker's temple. His eyes widened, he knew death would be coming soon and, well, it would be rude to disappoint him. 47 pulled the trigger, the bullet left the barrel and embedded itself into the mans skull. He jarred and slumped to the ground. 47 stepped out firing wildly. He needed help, I dived out of the door firing. Suddenly "click" you idiot! You forgot to reload. I had to act and fast. I sprung forward and grabbed the barrel of the nearest attacker and forced it up into his face, his nose gave a horrifying crunch and he reeled backwards, without pausing I drove my elbow into the stomach of another man, he fell forward, I un sheathed his combat knife and drove it through his throat. One man left, he turned to run but I was faster. I put my leg in front of his, he stumbled. As he fell I put my hand on his head and forced his face into the cold, hard floor. Messy. I turned to face 47. He had pinned a terrified survivor against the wall and was interrogating him.

"WERE YOU SENT BY HAROLD VICKERS?"

The man trembled but stayed silent, brave but stupid. 47 was a fierce enemy, and know he was angry. He asked again but didn't get an answer. He drew his pistol, pressed the barrel against the mans knee and pulled the trigger. He screamed but still said nothing. I couldn't watch this, 47 had a skill for keeping his victims alive so this could take a while. I went back into my bullet stricken apartment. I doubt I will ever be able to return here. I gathered anything of value and then put my rifle in its case. If the violence seen today was a taste of things to come I would need it before the end. 47 stepped in.

"He said nothing but…..I found these"

He took a bundle of ID cards out of his jacket and threw them on the table. I picked one up and examined it closely. My Heart stopped in my chest. He was an agent!


End file.
